


A Man Made Mess

by Yeoyou



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pre-Relationship, early philanthropy, with a little angst that managed to sneak in under my guard...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 09:18:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11666199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yeoyou/pseuds/Yeoyou
Summary: Snake tries to teach Otacon CQC. It's not very effective.





	A Man Made Mess

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thelonebamf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelonebamf/gifts).



> Very short, very belated birthdayficlet for the awesome Cat <3

The air was full of sweat and grunts, bodies colliding and wrestling, the dull thudding of flesh on flesh. And of Hal's complaints. For someone so winded and out of shape, the nerd had a surprising amount of breath left to whine and grumble.

“If you concentrated more on what you're doing and less on how you don't want to do it, we'd be a lot quicker, Otacon,” Snake chided and threw the engineer back onto the floor with a flick of his wrist and a well placed foot.

“Ouch!”

Otacon glowered up at him and rubbed his side.

“I still don't see why this is necessary, Snake. You never let me anywhere near the action anyway!”

“It's always important to be able to defend oneself. Especially in our line of work,” Snake snapped and helped his partner up, tugging a little too forcefully on his arm. He was losing his patience, which irritated him because if there was one thing he'd learned in his career as an elite soldier, it was to keep calm even under the most strenuous circumstances. But then again there hadn't been any nerds of this particular type at FOXHOUND. He'd never met anyone so clumsy and helpless when it came to anything physical. Give the man a laptop and he was a genius. Parted from his keyboard, however, it was a wonder how he even kept alive. His apartment was a mess, his eating and sleeping habits would have made Master Miller cry, and how he managed to accomplish anything with the chaos that constantly surrounded him was anyone's guess.

When Otacon had persuaded him to join Philanthropy, Snake had been prepared for much. But not quite for the collision of worlds as he moved into Hal's little London apartment. He couldn't take one step without falling over some manga or anime figurine or an abandoned coffee mug. Snake didn't always keep to strict military order in his own living arrangements but there was an inarguable advantage to being able to move out fast, without tripping over stuff or having to look for valuable intel under piles of laundry.

Snake watched Otacon get back into a position that could have loosely been described as defensive and sighed inwardly. The nerd was still complaining but Snake had stopped listening.

It only lasted a few seconds and Philanthropy's resident genius was back on the floor, wincing. He stubbornly refused to get up again.

“You just enjoy hurting, people!”

It was an unfair accusation, born of frustration and aching muscles, and Snake knew that Otacon probably didn't really mean it. But that didn't make it hurt less.

“I _enjoy_ not seeing you dead! Knowing that I could have done more to prepare and protect you!”

Snake turned abruptly, grabbed his smokes and headed onto the minuscule balcony. His chest was heaving and his head pounding, everything spinning as he gripped the railing and tried to will away the images haunting him. Meryl lying as dead in the snow, covered in blood and silent accusations. Frank, turned into a nightmare of metal and flesh. What did it matter if Otacon learned how to fight off a garden variety mugger, he'd never be any match to the people they were dealing with. Snake dragged a curse around with him and it never brought anything good for the people he started to care for. Maybe he should call it the SNAKEDIE effect or something. An invisible death sentence nestled in his cells that struck down those he came in contact with.

His fingers shook imperceptibly as he lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply, leaning his head against the uneven wall behind him.

The balcony looked over a little courtyard full of garbage, arguing families and smog. It was too hot, too cramped and a million light years away from the clean air and deadly cold of his Alaska home.

When he realised that his staring at the wall had turned into plotting an escape route to nowhere via fire ladders and rooftops, he shut down his head and started reciting Keats. He had no idea who had left the complete edition in his little cabin but since it had been the only thing to read there, he became unintentionally familiar with the poet's words. He didn't care much for their meaning but the rhythm helped him to calm down, to occupy his mind so it didn't get lost in its own avenues of fear.

“S-Snake?”

The soldier wished he could have not noticed the nerd approaching, that his nerves weren't always alert, that he could just smoke in peace. He grunted, not willing to acknowledge Otacon's presence any further.

“I'm ... sorry for what I said. It was uncalled for and ... _mean_. I don't really think th-that you like hurting people. I know you just tried to help. Snake? I really am so sorry!”

Otacon was hovering in the door frame, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, hugging himself and looking very much like his huskies whenever they did something they knew they shouldn't have.

Snake sighed and stubbed out his cigarette on the railing. “It's okay.” It came out rougher than intended and he still didn't look at Otacon but he felt some of the tension leaving his muscles.

“You wanna throw me down some more?”

His partner managed an encouraging half-smile and Snake's lips twitched.

“No. I think we've both had enough of that today.”

Otacon couldn't quite hide his relief and Snake's lips curled into an actual grin.

“We'll resume training tomorrow.”

Otacon's shoulders sagged.

“S-sure.”

Snake flicked the cigarette butt from the balcony – ignoring Otacon's shocked expression – and clapped the nerd's shoulder.

“How about a shower, a beer and one of your weird shows?”

When Otacon practically bounced off to wash the sweat from his scrawny body, Snake shook his head and chuckled. For some reason, he found it hard to stay mad with the messy, irritating, frustrating nerd.

He collected all empty coffee mugs he could find, carried them into the kitchen and grinned with satisfaction when he turned on the water and heard the shriek from the bathroom.

 


End file.
